


Saeva Victoria

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: (heavy on the hurt), AND I CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENED AS A RESULT, Angst, BUT THIS TIME IT'S NOT MY FAULT, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, LOOK I KNOW I KEEP KILLING AZ, SOMEONE MADE A SAD POST™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: “Az—” she starts, rocking up on her tiptoes as she peers over the tops of bent wings, searching for a pair of hazel eyes she’s been dreaming of for days now, but—He’s not with them.Mor furrows her brow; looks at the three of them—tired faces drawn with sorrow. She gulps down the terror ricocheting inside her chest. “Where’s Az?” she manages.Amren shakes her head, silver eyes worn down to more of a dull grey. Rhys won’t meet her gaze. Mor notices something glisten as it falls down Cassian’s cheek.No.-----based ontHIS GODFORSAKEN POST





	Saeva Victoria

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i'm just as Upset about this as you are. trust me. 
> 
> blame [susanna](http://http://buggitybooks.tumblr.com/).

She hears the boom of wings a moment before their shadows stretch long across the room; excitedly springs out of her seat to greet them. Mor had been in the Hewn City when the news had swept across Prythian.

_“Hybern is dead. The war is over.”_

It had been a melody sweeter than any wine, and Mor had become drunk on it.

“Az—” she starts, rocking up on her tiptoes as she peers over the tops of bent wings, searching for a pair of hazel eyes she’s been dreaming of for days now, but—

He’s not with them.

Mor furrows her brow; looks at the three of them—tired faces drawn with sorrow. She gulps down the terror ricocheting inside her chest. “Where’s Az?” she manages.

Amren shakes her head, silver eyes worn down to more of a dull grey. Rhys won’t meet her gaze. Mor notices something glisten as it falls down Cassian’s cheek.

_No._

It must be some mistake—a trick. There’s no way—he can’t be—he can’t be—

“No,” she whispers, the word stolen from her chest along with her breath.

_No, no, no, no, no, no—_

A pressure builds in her, pushes on her heart and lungs, threatens to end her—and she embraces it with open arms. Cassian pulls her to his chest just before her legs give out, wraps his arms around her and holds her together when all she wants to do is shatter.

For the span of heartbeats when she can’t remember how to breathe, Mor hears Cassian choke back a sound like a whimper, feels his jaw quiver where he presses it against her shoulder. She can feel fragments of herself calving into the abyss—parts of her spirit that have become so entwined with _his_ that they can’t survive without him here.

_No, no, no, no, no, no—_

The cry that tears itself from a tattered shred of her wounded soul is the most broken, unholy sound that’s ever echoed through the House of Wind. Even the walls seem to bow from the force of it, from the power and anguish and rage she unleashes into the warm air. Cassian only holds her tighter, crumples to the ground right along with her.

Words have no place here—none of them will bring him back, and so all of them are useless.

Mor digs her fingers into Cassian’s leathers as he does the same to her silk dress, drawing her so close it’s painful—and it’s a cruel reminder that she’s still alive; still alive in a world where Azriel _isn’t._

Cassian buries his head in her shoulder, body shuddering from the force of the sobs as they claw their way past his teeth, get caught in Mor’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Later, numb in bed after she runs out of tears, Rhys visits her. She doesn’t turn when she sees the hallway light leak in, doesn’t react when she feels his familiar weight bear down on the mattress.

“He said that if he ever—” The words stick in Rhys’s throat, and he gives up trying to speak, places a hand on her shoulder instead—and his gentle touch nearly breaks her. It’s a miracle, really, considering she didn’t think there were still pieces of her left _to_ break.

Curled into a ball, back to her cousin, Mor squeezes her eyes shut, fights off the hot, persistent moisture welling up inside.

Rhys reaches over her, sets something on the bed in front of her where he knows she’ll see it, and leaves without another word.

Some time later, Mor works up the strength to look at what Rhys left for her, and even in the dark she can see what it is—can recognize the handwriting on the outside of the worn envelope.

 _Morrigan,_ in Azriel’s perfect, fluid cursive.

She turns over, unable to open it. It still doesn't seem real. Maybe it isn't. Maybe she'll wake up in the morning and discover this was just a horrible nightmare.

(It's not; the burning in her chest and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks remind her it's not.)

 

* * *

 

Mor doesn’t touch the letter for three days—not even to move it from the spot on her bed where Rhys had originally placed it. Reading it means saying goodbye—means he’s really gone.

She’s not ready.

_She’s not ready._

She moves the letter to her nightstand, hides it in the drawer so she doesn’t have to look at it anymore.

 

* * *

 

Ten days and there’s an ache living in her bones; a soreness that’s taken up residence in her chest.

“Eat something,” Cassian begs, bringing her fruit and oatmeal and plates upon plates of food she has no interest in. “Mor, please.” His voice is a fragile thing, raw with grief. “I can’t lose you, too.”

She takes a bite of a pear—not for herself, but for him. Cassian has been through just as much as she has, and he doesn’t deserve the pain she’s putting him through. Still—

She hates the way her body responds with vibrant joy that she’s decided to feed it again; wishes the traitorous thing would just give up already.

“Thank you,” Cassian says.

Mor thinks it sounds too much like, _“I’m sorry.”_

 

* * *

 

With shaking hands, she breaks the seal on the envelope, pulls on the wax stamp until it gives and the note falls open.

It’s been almost a month.

She’s still not ready to say goodbye, but—

It’s time.

She can’t keep carrying around his shadow along with her own—not when Cassian and Rhys bear the burden of keeping her upright under the weight.

 _Morrigan_ —

Hot, thick droplets splash onto the paper before she even makes it past the first line.

_Don’t let the hard days win._

She slumps against the balcony railing, chest heaving as the sobs work their way through her slight frame. Of _course_ he would know exactly what to say, even in death, to keep her from giving up. She’s not sure why she ever expected anything else.

_I love you—always._

She can barely see through the tears that spill over the rims of her eyes, but there’s still one line she has yet to read.

_—Az_

Not Azriel. Not for her.

She runs her fingers over the letters, tortures herself one last time by imagining she’s touching his face.

Kind eyes. Wary gaze. Clever mouth.

If she closes her eyes, she can still see him. Still see the way he looks at her—looked. _Looked_ at her.

Mor takes a shuddering breath, presses her lips to the paper over the spot he signed.

“Goodbye,” she whispers, lets her lips linger on the parchment, holds onto him for just a moment longer than she intends. Then, tilting her head back and looking toward the heavens—“I love you, too.”

And she swears, on the Mother, on the Cauldron, on her life—that one star in particular shines a little brighter in response.

**Author's Note:**

> pls direct all torches & pitchforks [this way](http://yalenayardeen.tumblr.com)


End file.
